


and the clock strikes twelve

by whisperdlullaby



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Cheating, M/M, Mirror Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-03-03
Packaged: 2018-01-14 10:15:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1262524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whisperdlullaby/pseuds/whisperdlullaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>brendon sinks into his chest, gaze landing on the mirror in front of them. "look at us," he breathes, even though Ryan already is.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	and the clock strikes twelve

**Author's Note:**

> set on new years 2007, in new york city. mirror sex, sneaking behind girlfriends backs, what else do you need? \o/
> 
> originally posted on lj with the same user in 2010

"Brendon, we — " 

The door clicks shut behind them, Brendon turning the lock and Ryan doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence before he's pushing him against the counter, the sharp edge digging into his back. "I want you," Brendon purrs into his mouth, kissing him with a hint of desperation as he tugs on his dress shirt tucked inside his pants.

"Brendon — we can't — Keltie is — " 

"Don't care," he interrupts, pulling Ryan's fly down. "Want you to fuck me before the year ends. We'll be quick. No one'll know." 

Ryan groans in defeat, licking into Brendon's mouth while he pulls his pants down past his thighs, fingers wrapping around his hardening cock. "This is so, so wrong," he manages to get out through fervent kisses and struggled breath. His girlfriends just outside the door, with his friends, his bandmates. Anyone could walk by and hear, or see it when they return to the table, hair a mess, lips swollen and reeking of sex. 

Brendon ignores him, tugging down his own pants, and Ryan knows it's a feeble excuse, anyway. He knows they've done worse countless times before. "The whole time we were up there, performing in front of all these people, the fucking world watching us on TV, all I could think about was fucking you."

Ryan swallows. He doesn't say it, but what he's thinking is, me too. He should've been thinking about his girlfriend, watching from the small screen just inside, grin glowing with pride; that's how it's supposed to be, after all, but he wasn't. He never does when Brendon is around, because all he can see is him. 

"Do you have a condom?" Brendon asks, bucking his hips into Ryan's, cock sliding along his. 

He nods, and reaches into his back pocket for his wallet, fumbling through the folds before his fingers brush against the foiled package. Brendon takes it from him just as Ryan says, "What are we going to use for lube?" 

Brendon looks up at him with hooded eyes, flashing with uncertainty like hadn't thought about that. He searches the tiny bathroom around them before his gaze lands on the tub of hand soap near the sink. "It'll have to do." 

"But it'll hurt."

"I don't care." He knows just as well as Ryan that with Keltie around, they won't have this chance again until they fly back to Vegas, a few days well into the new year. They don't have to speak to know neither of them want that. 

Brendon flips them around until he's pressed against the counter, Ryan framing him, and he smoothes a hand along Ryan's tie, tugging him forward until their lips meet in a messy kiss. When he breaks away, and turns around, pants down to his ankles and suit jacket still on, Ryan can't tell if he looks ridiculous or just plain sexy. 

Ryan takes this as a hint and reaches forward to squirt a few drops of soap onto his hand, rubbing it into his fingers. Brendon's looking at him through the mirror, his ass pushed towards him and Ryan strokes a soft hand along his cheek. No matter how many times Ryan's seen Brendon's ass before, gorgeous and full and waiting for him, he always takes a moment to admire it. It's not very often you come across one even half as nice as his, and Ryan knows how to appreciate something like that. 

Smoothing a hand along his hip, Ryan places a kiss to the back of Brendon's neck and reaches between his legs with the other, pressing a finger inside the right ring of muscle.

Brendon whines, and pushes back into his finger, bracing himself on the counter. "Fuck, Ryan, your fingers." Not once in these past few months that they've been fucking has Brendon failed to tell him just how wonderful his fingers are. So wonderful, in fact, that on more than one occasion, Ryan has managed to get him off using nothing but. Brendon's kind of a slut when it comes to his fingers, or maybe just him in general.

Ryan pushes in a second, and slips a hand under his shirt, running it along his belly before moving down to graze against the course hair leading towards his cock. He wishes he had skin to bite, somewhere that wouldn't leave a mark for all to see, but with midnight nearing, he knows they don't have the time to undo ties and unbutton shirts. 

In the mirror, Brendon's reflection gazes back at him, heavy with pupils blown. He's already sweating, the sideburns hanging in front of ears beginning to stick against his skin. Ryan doesn't look at himself. "Come on," he whines, impatiently, pushing back into his fingers once more. "We don't have much time."

He nods, wiggling his fingers around before pulling out and pushing in another. A small, strangled noise slips from Brendon's parted lips, and he tilts his head back until it's resting against Ryan's shoulder. Ryan watches the long, strip of his throat, Adam's Apple sticking out from under his skin, pale against the artificial light. 

Bending his neck, Ryan kisses him, wet and a little off center, but there's a familiar curling in his stomach, anyway. 

Brendon dips his tongue into his mouth, sliding along his. "I'm good," he murmurs, hoarsely. "Just fuck me now." 

"We don't have proper lube," Ryan reminds. 

"I don't care," he insists, and Ryan sighs in surrender, moving his fingers around once more before sliding them out. 

There's no clock in the bathroom, and Ryan wonders how close the new year is approaching. When they had left it was twenty to midnight, and while Ryan had an idea what Brendon wanted when he wiggled his eyebrows, excusing himself to the washroom, he didn't think Brendon would be pulling down their pants and insisting they fuck. He didn't think he'd say yes. 

He can imagine Keltie gazing up at the clock, worried as the minutes tick by, wondering where they had disappeared to. He can imagine the expressions on everyone else's faces because they know. 

Pushing the thought from his mind, Ryan grabs the condom from the counter top, and backs away from Brendon until he has enough room to roll it on. He loads soap onto his palm this time, rubbing it in until the condom is well coated, Brendon making it extra difficult as he pushes into him, impatient. "Christ, you're needy,” Ryan says, batting him away. 

"Want your cock," he murmurs, eyes hooded and thick with hunger through the reflection, and somehow, Ryan grows even harder. Ryan's fairly positive that when Brendon's turned on, not even half the things that comes from his mouth register with his brain first. Ryan can't say he minds; he likes to hear how good his cock feels, or how well he can fuck. 

Ryan pushes Brendon's shirt up his stomach as far as the tight material will allow, and uses his other hand to guide himself in, slowly jerking his hips forward. "Fuck," Brendon grunts, forehead scrunching together. It hasn't been long since they had last fucked, two days ago before they had flown to New York, but Ryan knows there's a bit of a difference between lube and cheap hand soap that reeks of strong perfume. 

"You okay?" Ryan asks, hips stilling, and Brendon nods, fingers clutching the edge of the counter. 

"Yeah," he grinds out. "Just keep going."

Feathering kisses along the back of his neck, Ryan pushes in further, forcing his gaze away from Brendon's pained expression reflected in the mirror. Brendon's hot and tight around him, as always, and Ryan has to think of things like fungus and Spencer naked for the first few moments he pushes in, just to stop himself from coming. 

"Ryan, come on," he whines, irritated as he pushes back into Ryan until he's in as far as he can go. They both gasp, Brendon sinking further into his hands and Ryan presses his face into Brendon's jacket, breathing him in. He smells different, musky and sweet and manly, not like Keltie or any other girl, and Ryan kind of loves that about him. 

Changing his angle, Ryan slides in a bit easier this time, and Brendon bites onto his bottom lip, forcing back the sound. "Does it hurt?" 

"Ryan," he groans, exasperated, "I'm fine. Can handle it. Stop being careful."

He shrugs, thinking, fine, if that's the way you want it, and takes a firmer grip onto his hips, pushing in again, harder this time. Brendon makes a choked noise from within his throat, and Ryan catches his gaze in the mirror and holds it. 

They've been fucking for awhile, and Ryan has learned to accept it by now, but there's still something about seeing himself fucking Brendon, fucking a guy, that leaves him somewhere between confused and more aroused than ever. 

Brendon looks undeniably sexy like this, thoroughly fucked with sweat appearing from every pore on his forehead, eyes dark and wild. Ryan wonders if he looks at him, and thinks the same. 

He shifts his hips a little more to the right, growing more familiar with Brendon's body with everyday that passes. During these past few months, Ryan's beginning to learn things about him that he never thought he would; the way his fingers dig into his palms when he comes, or the way he'll fall pliant and boneless if Ryan sucks on this spot just under his hip, or that little beauty mark shaped as a tiny heart on the inside of his right thigh. 

This time Brendon moans, sinking even lower into his hands as his ass lifts into the air, pressing in to meet Ryan's hips. "Unf. Fuck," he pants, pushing off his palms and leans back into Ryan's chest, tilting his chin up to kiss him. "Ryan."

Ryan runs a hand up his chest, his rough palms snagging against the expensive material of his shirt, and he cups onto his chin, kissing him with the same intensity he thrusts into him with. He's pretty sure he could spend the rest of his life fucking Brendon, and never get bored of it. He loves every noise he makes, the curses and the moans, the dirty talk and the way he says his name. He wonders if Brendon knows he's got this spell put over him. 

"New Years soon," he says, breathlessly, into his mouth. 

Ryan nods, nipping onto his bottom lip, hips still trusting into him with a steady rhythm. There's no way they'll be able to join the rest of them after this. Ryan can feel the sweat pricking up from his skin underneath his suit, their hair is messy and untamed, and he can just imagine what their lips are going to look like after, swollen and chafed. Keltie will look at them, and there's no way she won't know. 

Ryan can feel his gut beginning to clench, building up for release, and he snakes his hand between Brendon and the counter, wrapping a firm hand around his leaking cock. Brendon sinks into his chest, gaze landing on the mirror in front of them. "Look at us," he breathes, even though Ryan already is; has been this entire time. 

He swallows, and presses his lips against Brendon's cheek, breathing him in. He wants to tell him how beautiful he looks right now, always, but he can't find the words. 

"I'm going to — " Brendon starts, but is cut off by the sudden eruption of noise outside the door, and Ryan's hips falter as he strains to hear until the realization hits him. The countdown.

"Shit. Shit. Oh my god," he says, panicked, thrusts and wrist picking up speed. He thought they had more time. He's supposed to be with Keltie right now, not fucking his bandmate in a topnotch restaurant bathroom. She was so excited earlier that day, bouncing in her heels and saying how she’d get to kiss someone on New Years for the first time in a long time, and Ryan had agreed, unaware he'd leave her to be with Brendon. 

Brendon laughs, strained by every thrust, and he rolls his head back against Ryan's shoulder, breathing into his neck. "You're a bad boyfriend."

Despite the fact that it's not funny at all, Ryan finds himself laughing along with him. "I kind of am, aren't I?"

Brendon nods, laughing harder. He reaches out, smoothing his hand along the stubble decorating Ryan's jaw. "If it helps, I still think you're pretty awesome," he manages out through heavy pants. 

Ryan smiles, chest tightening as he bends down, pressing their mouths together, an eruption of cheers and yells and Happy New Year's breaking out on the other side of the door. Brendon giggles as Ryan tightens his grip, thrusting in harder and deeper, rough palm gliding along Brendon. "Ready for your first orgasm in 2007?" he murmurs, cheekily, into his ear. 

"Yeah." Brendon nods, eyes glazed as they drift back to the mirror. He comes before Ryan, shirt pushed up his stomach so he doesn't get anything on it, and Ryan watches him through the mirror, the way his eyes slip shut and his mouth opens, his name passing through his lips in a moan. Ryan was nearly mesmerised the first time he saw Brendon comes, amazed that anyone could look so hot, and even now, the feelings barely faded.

Ryan jerks his hips faster, wanting to come while still inside Brendon, the muscles around his cock constricting and tightening until he can't breathe. With one last thrust he's coming, mouth pressed along the slick skin of Brendon's neck. 

"Shit." Brendon laughs, breathless, once he's gained composure. "I can't believe we just did that."

"It was your idea," Ryan remarks, taking one final breath before pulling out. 

Brendon makes a noise of protest from the back of his throat, the same one he always makes, and Ryan wants to tell him that he feels the same. 

He pulls the condom off and chucks it into the toilet, flushing as he pulls toilet paper from the roll. He wipes himself off, and pulls up his pants, Brendon watching him with hooded eyes when he moves back towards him, his own pants still around his ankles. There's sweat marks all the way through his jacket, and Ryan has no idea how they're going to be able to explain that one. 

Ryan wipes the tissue against Brendon's stomach and his cock, now flaccid between his thighs and tosses it into the trashcan next to them. Brendon wraps his arms around his neck, kissing him long and languid and sweet, a dramatic change from the kisses minutes earlier. "So, how does it feel to be my last fuck of 2006 and my first of 2007?" 

Ryan laughs, kissing him as his mind drifts from Keltie once again. "Awesome." 

Brendon smiles, an almost bashful hint to it. "Happy New Years," he murmurs. 

Smoothing his hand over Brendon's hip, Ryan kisses him and smiles into his mouth, whispering, "You too."


End file.
